


eat your greens

by GothMaureen



Series: way too queer for this business [3]
Category: Food Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Gen, Oh hey look Spicy’s back, Once again a lot of Souls get mentioned and not all of them show up, Protective Parent Master Attendant, Salad is my son and I will FIGHT YOU, Stubborn as Hell Master Attendant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 04:21:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16032872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GothMaureen/pseuds/GothMaureen
Summary: He was so good, so young, so shy, so hopeful. I had to protect him.Or, Salad is a Valid Good Shy Boy and Master Attendant loves him very much.





	eat your greens

**Author's Note:**

> And now, for something completely different. 
> 
> SALAD IS MY PRECIOUS VEGTABLE SON AND I MUST PROTECT HIM
> 
> The idea for this came to me the night after I finished the Spicy fic and then it just spilled out of me over the course of like, eight hours. 
> 
> This takes place after ‘savor, save it for later.’

The first time I laid eyes on Salad, I’d almost cried.

It had been a long day at the tavern, full of drunks and picky customers, and I’d pressured myself into the summoning in the middle of the night. When he’d appeared, sitting in his basket, curled up with his floppy hat on his head, I had nearly burst into tears. 

“You’re Master Attendant? Then I will take good care of you.” 

I knelt down, and he looked me in the eyes and threw his arms around me in a tight hug. “I’ll protect you, Master Attendant. I promise.” 

 

* * *

 

“Master Attendant?” 

I look up from the supplies I’m unpacking (I’d sent Orange Juice & Sakuramochi out to the market earlier with a detailed list), setting a loaf of seeded bread down onto the kitchen counter. At my eyeline is Milk, and she looks concerned. 

“Milk, is everything OK?” I continue to unpack the baskets, but keep my gaze at the white-haired Food Soul. 

“Yes, but...it is Salad.” She looks at me warily. “Black Tea has tried to bring him into our fold, but...he prefers to be alone. We are worried about him, Master Attendant.” 

It had been a few weeks since the young Soul had joined us at the Tavern, and I hadn’t seen much of him outside of my excursions to the Forest and beyond for ingredients. “I’ll talk to him,” I sigh, setting down the basket in my hand. “Unpack the rest of this for me?” 

“Of course,” Milk smiles softly, coming around the counter. “He is upstairs.” 

I make my way up the stairs to the rooms above the tavern, walking down the halls til I find Salad, sitting in one of the open dorm-style rooms by himself. “Hey buddy,” I smile, shutting the door behind myself. 

The green-haired Food Soul looks up at me from where he’s curled up in his basket. “Master Attendant, is everything alright?” 

“I’m fine, Salad,” I sit down on the floor, crossing my legs. “But some of the others are worried about  _you_.” 

He looks up at me, wide-eyed. “They shouldn’t be. I am perfectly fine.”

I raise an eyebrow, fingers finding the ring of keys on my belt and starting to fidget with them. “You stay up here all day, and don’t talk to the others, even when we’re cooking. If something is wrong with me, or the tavern, you can tell me, Salad.” 

“Oh no!” He starts, sitting up a little straighter in his basket. “You are perfect, Master Attendant! I only want to help you, that is all.”

“Oh, Salad.” I sigh, laughing softly. “You can help me by trying to make friends, by being yourself. We’re a family here, and nobody is going to judge you. Well, Spicy might, but leave her to me, OK?” 

He looks up at me, eyes wide, a hint of fear hidden there. “O-OK, if that is what you wish, Master Attendant.” 

I stand up, and hold out my hand. “It doesn’t have to be all at once. Baby steps are OK.” 

For the first time, Salad gets out of his basket. 

Well, he actually  _rolls_  out of it, and like the little dork that he is, the green-haired Food Soul smiles up at me before picking it up and tucking the basket under his arm. It shrinks a few sizes, and Salad holds out his other hand for me. 

“Let’s go, buddy.” 

 

* * *

Downstairs, the taproom and the kitchen are both a frenzied mess - Hawthorne Ball, Sandwich & Popcorn have an assembly line going making pasties along the back wall of the kitchen, while the second we come downstairs I’m accosted by Brownie, who’s carrying a clipboard, pencil tucked behind his ear. 

“Master Attendant, there are two hours and thirty-six minutes until the tavern opens for the evening. We’re doing as much kitchen prep as possible before open, but we will need your help to finish the pies. Pudding assured me he’ll keep an eye on Yellow Wine, and Ume has everything at the doors handled.” 

“Breathe, Brownie.” I laugh, letting Salad stick a little closer to my side. “I’ve got this, why don’t you make sure all the tables have been cleared, and check with Black Tea to make sure everyone else is taken care of for the night?”  

The butler eyes Salad clinging to me, and I wave one ringed hand at Brownie. “Go on.”

As Brownie shuffles away, I lead Salad over to another part of the kitchen, where pans of savory and sweet pies are waiting for me. “Each of these needs crust, and I do this myself.” I pick up a bowl of pastry dough and plop it out on the floured counter. 

“Why?” 

“Because, each one gets something special,” I smile, and roll out the dough carefully. 

I pick up a knife laid out for me (probably by Brownie, no doubt) and carefully cut swirled symbols from one: music notes that I carefully place atop a sweet blackberry rhubarb pie. “No one of these is the same, just like people.” 

Salad takes it all in, watching as I cut treble and bass clefs next, artfully arranging them over a chicken and potato pie. “Do you want to try?” I look at his eyes watching me. Salad shakes his head, and then his eyes catch something else. 

Across the room, Milk & Coffee are carrying bottles for the bar, the doors to the kitchen moving in their wake. “You can go ask what they’re doing. I’ll be right here if you want to come back.” 

Salad looks up at me, but tucks his basket firmly under his arm and marches out into the tavern. I go back to my pies, and it’s only when I place the last music note onto the last pie that I realize Salad is still gone. I wipe my floury hands with a towl, let Hawthorne know that they’re ready for the oven. 

I sweep through the kitchen doors into the taproom, where I can see that Black Tea is ensuring that Crepe, Macaron and Long Bao are all doing their assigned tasks, and Yellow Wine is behind the bar, supervised by Pudding as he stocks and cleans glassware. 

And at the far end of the polished bartop is Salad, picking bits of herbs and leafy vegtables from his basket and putting them in jars. Milk is smiling as she passes bottles of booze to Coffee, who’s standing on a ladder and shelving them. “Having fun?” I sit down a barstool beside the young Food Soul. 

“Yes,” he smiles softly, plucking some mint from his basket and dropping it into one of the glasses. “Milk is sharing stories of your adventures with me.” 

“Just tales of my time with you, Master Attendant,” the horned Food Soul smiles when I turn to her. “It has not been long, but still very wonderful. Young Salad should know how lucky he is, with such a kind master as you, Master Attendant.”  

I smile, standing up from the bar and look around the room at everyone, checking the clock on the wall. “Well, if everyone’s alright down here, I’m going to upstairs to change.” 

Nobody objects, which is exactly what I’m looking for.  

* * *

Spicy is waiting inside my bedroom when I get up there, lounging across my bed, twirling a lock of red hair around one finger. “I want to play,” she smirks when I shut the door behind me and sit down, kicking off my shoes. 

“Not now, I’m busy,” I swat her away to start changing into something clean and appropriate for the owner/bartender of a tavern on the edge of the Secret Forest. 

“You spent all day away, with the little one,” she frowns, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Salad needed me,” I reply, digging through my dresser. “You’re not jealous, are you, Spicy?” 

“Of  _Salad_? Pah,” the redhead rolls her eyes. 

“If you say so,” I sigh before twisting my dark hair up out of my eyes. 

“I’ll be back after closing,” I lean down and kiss Spicy, and she tries to tug me down onto the bed but I push her back. “You’ll have to wait til then.” 

“Hmph.” 

* * *

 At the end of the night, after the stars are out and last call’s long past, I make my way back upstairs. I’m tired, and all I want is to fall into bed with Spicy, but somehow I make a detour down the hall. 

At the room on the very end I find Salad waiting for me, curled up in his big basket again. “Master Attendant,” he smiles at me, and I kneel down to let the young Soul hug me. 

“Thank you for being brave, buddy,” I smile, kissing his forehead. “Can you do that a little bit every day? At least try?”

“For you, Master Attendant, I will.”  

I kiss his forehead again before standing, and letting him rest. 

As I walk back to my quarters, I muse.  _What a sweetheart, I’ve gotta keep him safe._

Fuck, I’m hopeless. 

**Author's Note:**

> I repeat my statement that Salad is my veggie son and I will fight EVERYONE who says mean things about him. 
> 
> Please, if you have requests, let me know! Even if I haven’t mentioned them in a fic, ask away!


End file.
